


An Unfeeling Kiss

by blackgoldmentality



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 05:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15624024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgoldmentality/pseuds/blackgoldmentality
Summary: The glass between them keeps them alive.





	An Unfeeling Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw the [new teaser for Season Seven](https://ew.com/tv/2018/08/08/voltron-legendary-defender-season-7-exclusive-clip/) today, I just _had_ to write something for it! I've been wanting to put up a _Voltron_ story for quite some time now, but have been unable to really sit and think about it as I've been busy managing my other works—so this one-shot is the perfect way to dip my toes into the _Voltron_ community here on AO3! I'm so excited!
> 
> This story does take place within the context of that moment, so if you want the full details, do watch the linked video—however, I think I do a decent-enough job describing what occurs, and setting the scene, so you can enjoy this story spoiler-free... to a middling extent as this moment is a bit of a spoiler within its own... oh well... It's up to you, really.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the original _Voltron: Legendary Defender_ characters. I only own my interpretation and usage of this plot, and whatever miscellaneous characters I may add.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> Enjoy!

They are floating close to one another; no longer are they all desperately clinging to the closest of them after the initial shock of the spatial interference sending violent waves that flew them in various directions, wore off.

How long has it been since then? Since they were separated from the Lions?

The Red Paladin, in Blue Paladin armor, simply knows that his stomach is twisted as a result of the hunger it currently feels; the bodily fluids the suit collects to keep him somewhat hydrated is not enough—nothing like the IV he feels he needs, nothing like the _ropa vieja_ and _Country Club_ soda in _frambuesa_ it is craving. The meager oxygen he takes his shallow breaths in, too, are not enough.

His fellow Green and Yellow Paladins have resigned themselves to not talking or moving at all; he wonders for a brief moment if they are even still alive, floating freely in space—still close enough to the group should they all need to huddle together once more—their eyes closed. Then he hears it, snoring coming from the Yellow armor. He would sigh in relief, but does not want to risk using what little oxygen has left. He briefly thinks, _Hunk’s going to die first,_ considering the snoring.

_No, don’t think that—positive, try to stay positive._

The Green Paladin had taken it upon herself to track the number of days they had spent floating about, using the ticker in their suits; the display of which currently takes up the entire face of her mask, making her more akin to a robot whose only function it is to tell time, than a human girl counting the days away. He wonders if she is doing that on purpose, to hide her face so that no one can see how anxious she may or may not be—

The type of distress ever visible on the Blue Paladin, in Pink Paladin armor. The Princess is silent, clutching onto herself tightly, eyes shut even more harshly, lightly sobbing; she has done so every few hours—the ticker says so, and thus he believes she is specifically crying at those times because them passing is making her break-down further; she always glances at it before going into a fit; hence why she is currently turned away from Green, so as not to see the digital numbers change, to lose her sense of time.

This isolation… the threat of death must be getting to her heavily. He has never seen her so vulnerable and in-fear of her own life—not even during those moments when she had, quite literally, put her life in danger. Now that despair continues to creep in and sink into her, she is thrown through a loop, and suffering. During her first break-down, she had called out for her father, mother, overseer. She was the first to do so.

Then Green, then Yellow.

Now it was just him and the Black Paladin, in Red Paladin armor, their leader.

He will admit: He had, initially, been… not as hopeful as he should have been at the odds of their survival, but had had been able to keep himself in a steady-enough mindset due to their leader. Red had tried perhaps harder than even he had to help Pink, Green, and Yellow during their bouts of hysteria—but eventually that became tiring even to him, as the moments he would spend exerting himself to help them deteriorated his own oxygen levels. When his tank had reached 25% capacity, good for only another few days, he stopped talking altogether.

Now they all float in their own “areas”—together, yet far enough apart, waiting; waiting; waiting; waiting for what?

Hope, he thinks; he hopes; he wishes.

A rescue.

Their Lions.

Death.

_Any minute now._

Yet that very thought makes his heart bleed, and shallows his breath in a way that the oxygen deprivation cannot do. To die? Is that all he is really waiting for? Is that all he _can_ wait for?

Yes, that is all.

Their attempt to send rescue signals out had been a failure due to how weak the signals’ ranges were, and how quickly the act depleted the life support of their suits. Flares did not travel or last long enough to be significant; they had watched the few that had gone off and travel like shooting stars before they fizzled out. The first launch had been hopeful, but the few after that got progressively less until they resided to not send any more out. As the last flare had blackened, so did their thoughts of survival.

_We’re going to die… this is it… this is how I die… alone in space…_

The stars are far, the planets seemingly further, his life support down to 10%, his stomach in agony, a massive headache pulsating, his friends… his team… His family…

He starts to cry, to sob, as quietly as he can.

Oddly enough, he is the second-to-last to cry, and knows that each drop which falls from his eyes are the ticks to his own instability; he cries harder when he thinks of collecting said tears as drinking water—that at the very least, he will not die without having one final gulp.

His hands cover his face, gloves unable to touch his skin as the glass mask continues to be the only thing standing between him and a slow, painful death. Several times he has now thought of opening it and allowing that to be his fate—then the thought of his family pulls him back from that headspace. Now he wonders if that was not his own cowardice keeping him from having a pleasing, selfish death before he could see the same happen to his friends.

He attempts to calm himself as the display of the suit’s UI on his face mask shows his oxygen going down from 10% to 9%—was that because of his crying just then, or was it bound to happen and his crying just so happened to be enough to push it under? He does not know, he does not care, he simply… stares at the sliver of red on that vertical bar. Is that the last thing he is going to see?

From the red bar, his eyes go to their Red leader, turned away from them all like Pink as well. What… is he thinking at this time? Is he asleep? Is he crying? Is he… an empty shell now? He has not heard him speak for quite a while.

He sniffles, and for a second turns on his jetpack to send him off in the direction of the Red Paladin; at this noise, the Red Paladin does turn his body to see him.

“Lance? What are you doing?”

He floats and stops as he grabs onto Red’s arms.

“Nothing, just… I wanted to check on you…” His voice is low, his mouth telling lies. Annoyingly enough, activating the jetpack used up a quarter of a percent of the life support for the suit, as everything is universally powered within. Only 9.75% left. Should now really be the time he tries to hide himself? “Keith… I can’t breathe…”

“I know,” his tone is hushed as well, “and that’s why you shouldn’t have—”

“I can’t breathe, but I still have so much left to say… to my family… to my friends… to you…”

“Lance…”

“Keith, I—” He feels the tears again, tiny rivers shining down his tan skin; his voice is momentarily caught in his throat as the emotions he had been trying so hard to keep swallowed deep inside—the stability he had been trying to be not only for the remaining members of their team, but for his leader, and himself, rips from within his core. “ _I can’t breathe_!”

“Lance! Calm down—Lance, please!” He cannot see it due to his blurry, shut eyes, but he can hear the panic in his leader’s voice, the same shakiness that had been in all of their voices at some point—is he going to break his leader as well? To take him down with him?

“I don’t want to die! Not like this! Not in space without my family! Not feeling… n-not feeling so awful…!”

“I know, Lance,” his leader tries to soothe, “I know…”

He grabs on even tighter to the Red Paladin, getting closer to him, seeking a warmth he knows he will be unable to feel due to their suits being in the way—due to being surrounded by heartless, empty space. Yet, he still wraps his arms around his neck and hugs him, letting his emotions out into his shoulder; he can feel his leader’s arms go around his waist, tightly, tighter, painfully.

“I’m know… I know… I a-am too… I know…” The mumblings are a struggle to execute, and to hear.

Hearing his friend that is—yes, his friend, for such a long time now he has considered his once-rival, his now-leader, his friend… Hearing him that way pains him even further, and causes him to cry with greater sorrow than before.

_It… it’s not so bad being in his arms. If this is how I go—_

“Keith…” He pulls away just enough to make eye-contact with the Red Paladin; whose light tears stain his face. He has never seen him like that before, so decomposed, and in such a… pathetic state, just like his own. However, he is certain that his appearance is far worse and emotionally torn. “I… I h-haven’t hated you for a while now… since before you l-left with the Blades—god that was awful, I wanted to cry…”

“Lance—”

“I’ve looked up to you f-for the longest time, and… and even though I’ve n-never said it before, wh-when you dropped out of the Garrison, I—” He pauses, recollecting himself just enough to continue on, still crying, but with his eyes open this time and the best smile he can put on, present—weak and unconvincing and heartbreaking. “I hated you so much! You were the best pilot in our class! I looked up to you! How could you just—!” He pauses once more, seeing his oxygen at 9.53%. Sometimes he feels as though blinking will lower that number more.

He takes a moment to inhale.

He has to prioritize.

He does not want… he does not want to pass-out during this… He does not want to become another piece of space debris whilst Keith is looking at him…

“…I like you, Keith…” Soft, ever softer, slow, as possible. “I like you… I like you… Since… p-probably since our days at the Garrison… I guess that was why I was so hurt when you left… It’s tough seeing the person you like fail… and then forget all about you…”

Keith inhales sharply; there is much he wants to say as well, but knows that he cannot. His oxygen level is the second lowest of the group, at 8.31%.

“I like you, too…” He responds with the essentials. “Since you helped to take down Sendak… And you just… you kept doing things that made me like you more, from then. I never hated you—except for how much you flirted with Allura… that hurt…”

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t sure you’d… I didn’t think—!”

In that moment his mind calls him back to all that time he had wasted in not pursuing something with Keith. Certainly, his feelings for Allura were true, but so were those for Keith—his purposeful ignorance towards him, all built on a fear that is now null, fills him with regret. At the very least, he is already in the middle of crying, and tacks on this remorse.

“I’m so sorry—I messed up so badly—I’m so sorry, Keith, I’m so sorry!”

“Lance, please, calm down!” Keith wraps his arms over Lance’s back and pulls him in again. “Calm down, calm down—I don’t want your oxygen going down right now… please…” Minor, but Lance can feel him shaking. “ _Please_ …” Keith is pleading at him to not… to not die…

He moves back to face Keith once more, remaining in his arms as their helmets are within each other’s eyesight. They float for a while in silence, staring at one another. He studies the bangs around Keith’s black eyes, the large eyes themselves, the burnt mark on his right cheek, his lips. He does not want to know what Keith sees of him in that depressing moment.

He places his hands around the sides of Keith’s helmet, and without warning, presses their helmets together as much as he can, and moves his lips to touch the inside of the surface of the cool glass, over Keith’s face. With his eyes closed, he cannot tell if Keith understands him or does the same.

Which, he does—at first shocked, Keith does fully understand Lance’s reasoning, and reciprocates. His lips over that very spot, he starts to shake more visibly from the desperateness of the situation. He cannot feel Lance’s lips against his own; only the pressure from Lance’s body—never the warmth or emotion coming off of it. Will this be his last memory? A cold, unfeeling, mock kiss between him and Lance?

“I’m s-so sorry...” Keith chokes out some time after, blind to the world by his own hysterics. “I’m so s-sorry Lance, that I… th-that I couldn’t take you home—that I c-c-c-couldn’t help you see your fa-family again…!”

This time it is Lance who primarily becomes the support as their position slightly changes so that Keith is leaning into him and wailing on his shoulder. There is nothing he can say as their hearts melt together in sorrow.

All that time wasted…

**Author's Note:**

> "Ropa Vieja" is a traditional Cuban stew made from shredded beef and a tomato-based sauce, and the mentioned _Country Club_ "Frambuesa" (meaning "Raspberry") is one of my favorite Caribbean soda flavors of all time! The first being _Country Club's_ "Merengue" flavor! (Don't ask me what that means, I have literally no idea outside of the dance/music type my family had at parties, and for the longest time just called it the "Chinita" (meaning "Orange-like") flavor, haha).
> 
> What did you think? I could not get this out of my mind when I saw that clip—and purposely left the ending ambiguous. Do they get rescued? Do they die? Who knows! Thank goodness for the canon, right?!
> 
> I hope you liked this story and will look-out for my other _Voltron_ fan-fiction when I finally get the chance to write them.


End file.
